Portland transcript vol 33 no. 45

THE MORMON APOSTLE.
Justin McCarthy, in the February Galaxy, gives the following graphic description of Brigham Young:
There must be something of impressive-ness and dignity about the man, for, odd as is his appearance and make up, one feels no inclination to laugh. But such a figure! Brigham Young wears a long-tailed, high-collared coat; the swallow-tails nearly touch the ground; the collar is about his ears. In shape the garment is like the swallow-tail coats negro-minstrels sometimes wear, or like the dandy English dress coat one can still see in prints in some of the shops of St. James street, London. But the mate-rial of Brigham's coat is some kind of rough, gray frieze, and the garment is adorned with huge brass buttons. The vest and trowsers are of the same material. Round the neck of the patriarch is some kind of bright crim-son shawl, and on the patriarch's feet are natty little boots of the shiniest polished leather. I must say that the gray frieze coat of antique and wonderful construction, the gaudy crimson shawl, and the dandy boots make up an incongruous whole which irresistibly reminds one at first of the holi-day get-up of some African King, who adds to a great coat, preserved as an heir loom since Mungo Park's day, a pair of modern top boots and a lady's bonnet. The whole appearance of the patriarch, when one has got over the African monarch impression, is like that of a Suffolk farmer as presented on the boards of a Surrey theatre. But there is decidedly an amount of composure and even of dignity about Brigham Young which soon makes one forget the mere ludi-crousness of the patriarch's external appear-ance. Young is a handsome man—much handsomer than his portrait on the wall would show him. Close upon seventy years of age, he has as clear an eye and as bright a complexion as if he were a hale English farmer of fifty five. But there is something fox like or cunning lurking un-der the superficial good nature and kindli-ness of the face. He seems, when he speaks to you effusively and plausibly, to be quiet-ly studying your expression to see whether he is talking you over or not. The express-ion of his face, especially of his eyes, strangely and provokingly reminds me of Kossuth. I think I have seen Kossuth thus watch the face of a listener to see whether or not the listener was conquered by his wonderful power of talk. Kossuth's face, apart from its intellectual qualities, appeared to me to express a strange blend-ing of vanity, craft and weakness; and Brig-ham Young's countenance now seems to show just such a mixture of qualities. Great force of character the man must surely have; great force of character Kossuth, too, had; but the face of neither man seemed to de-clare the possession of such a quality. Brig-ham Young decidedly does not impress me as a man of great ability; but rather as a man of great plausibility. I can at once understand how such a man, with such an eye and tongue, can easily exert an immense in-fluence over women. Beyond doubt he is a man of genius; but his genius does not re-veal itself, to me at least, in his face or his words. He speaks in a thin, clear, almost shrill tone, and with much apparent bonho-mie. After a little commonplace conversa-tion about the city, its improvements, ap-proaches, &c., the Prophet voluntarily goes on to speak of himself, his system and his calumniators. His talk soon flows into a kind of monologue, and is indeed a curious rhapsody of religion, sentimentality, shrewd-ness and egotism. Sometimes several sen-tences succeed each other in which his hear-ers hardly seem to make out any meaning whatever, and Brigham Young appears a grotesque kind of Coleridge. Then again comes up a shrewd meaning very distinctly expressed, and with a dash of humor and sarcasm gleaming fantastically amid the scriptural allusions and the rhapsody of unctuous words. The purport of the whole is that Brigham Young has been misunder-stood, misprized, and calumniated, even as Christ was; that were Christ to come up tomorrow in New York or London. He would be misunderstood, misprized, and calumnia-ted, even as Brigham Young now is; and that Brigham Young is not to be dismayed though the stars in their courses should fight against him. He protests with especial em-phasis and at the same time especial meek-ness, with eyes half closed and delicately modulated voice, against the false reports that any manner of force or influence what-ever is, or ever was, exercised to keep men or women in Salt Lake City against their will. He appeals to the evidence of our own eyes, and asks us whether we have not seen for ourselves that the city is free to all to come and go as they will. At this time we had not heard the story told by the poor little maid at the hotel; but in any case the evidence of our eyes could go no farther than to prove that travellers like ourselves were free to enter and depart. We have, however, little occasion to trouble ourselves about answering; for the Prophet keeps the talk pretty well to himself. His manner is certainly not that of a man of culture, but it has a good deal of the quiet grace and self possession of what we call a gentleman. There is nothing prononce or vulgar about him. Even when he is most rhapsodical his speech never loses its ease and gentleness of tone. He is bland, benevolent, sometimes quietly pathetic in manner. He poses him-self en victime, but with the air of one who does this regretfully and only from a disinterested sense of duty. I begin very soon to find that there is no need of troubling myself much to keep up the conversation; that my business is that of a listener; that the Prophet conceives himself to be address-ing some portion of the English or Ameri-can press through my humble medium. So I listen and my companion listens; and Brigham Young talks on; and I do declare and acknowledge that we are fast drifting into a hazy mental condition by virtue of which we begin to regard the Mormon Pres-ident as a victim of cruel persecution, a suf-fering martyr and an injured angel!
Time, surely, that the interview should come to a close. We tear ourselves away, and the Prophet dismisses us with a fervent and effusive blessing. "Good-bye—do well, mean well, pray always. Christ be with you, God be with you, God bless you." All this, and a great deal more to the same ef-fect, was uttered with no vulgar, maw-worm demonstrativeness of tone or gesture, no nasal twang, no uplifted hands; but quietly, earnestly, as if it came unaffectedly from the heart of the speaker. We took leave of Brigham Young, and came away a little puzzled as to whether we had been convers-ing with an imposter or a fanatic, a Peter the Hermit or a Tartuffe. One thing, however, is clear to me. I do not say that Brig-ham Young is a Tartuffe; but I know now how Tartuffe ought to be played so as to render the part more effective and more ap-parently natural and life-like than I have ever seen it on French or English stage.

Click tabs to swap between content that is broken into logical sections.

THE MORMON APOSTLE.
Justin McCarthy, in the February Galaxy, gives the following graphic description of Brigham Young:
There must be something of impressive-ness and dignity about the man, for, odd as is his appearance and make up, one feels no inclination to laugh. But such a figure! Brigham Young wears a long-tailed, high-collared coat; the swallow-tails nearly touch the ground; the collar is about his ears. In shape the garment is like the swallow-tail coats negro-minstrels sometimes wear, or like the dandy English dress coat one can still see in prints in some of the shops of St. James street, London. But the mate-rial of Brigham's coat is some kind of rough, gray frieze, and the garment is adorned with huge brass buttons. The vest and trowsers are of the same material. Round the neck of the patriarch is some kind of bright crim-son shawl, and on the patriarch's feet are natty little boots of the shiniest polished leather. I must say that the gray frieze coat of antique and wonderful construction, the gaudy crimson shawl, and the dandy boots make up an incongruous whole which irresistibly reminds one at first of the holi-day get-up of some African King, who adds to a great coat, preserved as an heir loom since Mungo Park's day, a pair of modern top boots and a lady's bonnet. The whole appearance of the patriarch, when one has got over the African monarch impression, is like that of a Suffolk farmer as presented on the boards of a Surrey theatre. But there is decidedly an amount of composure and even of dignity about Brigham Young which soon makes one forget the mere ludi-crousness of the patriarch's external appear-ance. Young is a handsome man—much handsomer than his portrait on the wall would show him. Close upon seventy years of age, he has as clear an eye and as bright a complexion as if he were a hale English farmer of fifty five. But there is something fox like or cunning lurking un-der the superficial good nature and kindli-ness of the face. He seems, when he speaks to you effusively and plausibly, to be quiet-ly studying your expression to see whether he is talking you over or not. The express-ion of his face, especially of his eyes, strangely and provokingly reminds me of Kossuth. I think I have seen Kossuth thus watch the face of a listener to see whether or not the listener was conquered by his wonderful power of talk. Kossuth's face, apart from its intellectual qualities, appeared to me to express a strange blend-ing of vanity, craft and weakness; and Brig-ham Young's countenance now seems to show just such a mixture of qualities. Great force of character the man must surely have; great force of character Kossuth, too, had; but the face of neither man seemed to de-clare the possession of such a quality. Brig-ham Young decidedly does not impress me as a man of great ability; but rather as a man of great plausibility. I can at once understand how such a man, with such an eye and tongue, can easily exert an immense in-fluence over women. Beyond doubt he is a man of genius; but his genius does not re-veal itself, to me at least, in his face or his words. He speaks in a thin, clear, almost shrill tone, and with much apparent bonho-mie. After a little commonplace conversa-tion about the city, its improvements, ap-proaches, &c., the Prophet voluntarily goes on to speak of himself, his system and his calumniators. His talk soon flows into a kind of monologue, and is indeed a curious rhapsody of religion, sentimentality, shrewd-ness and egotism. Sometimes several sen-tences succeed each other in which his hear-ers hardly seem to make out any meaning whatever, and Brigham Young appears a grotesque kind of Coleridge. Then again comes up a shrewd meaning very distinctly expressed, and with a dash of humor and sarcasm gleaming fantastically amid the scriptural allusions and the rhapsody of unctuous words. The purport of the whole is that Brigham Young has been misunder-stood, misprized, and calumniated, even as Christ was; that were Christ to come up tomorrow in New York or London. He would be misunderstood, misprized, and calumnia-ted, even as Brigham Young now is; and that Brigham Young is not to be dismayed though the stars in their courses should fight against him. He protests with especial em-phasis and at the same time especial meek-ness, with eyes half closed and delicately modulated voice, against the false reports that any manner of force or influence what-ever is, or ever was, exercised to keep men or women in Salt Lake City against their will. He appeals to the evidence of our own eyes, and asks us whether we have not seen for ourselves that the city is free to all to come and go as they will. At this time we had not heard the story told by the poor little maid at the hotel; but in any case the evidence of our eyes could go no farther than to prove that travellers like ourselves were free to enter and depart. We have, however, little occasion to trouble ourselves about answering; for the Prophet keeps the talk pretty well to himself. His manner is certainly not that of a man of culture, but it has a good deal of the quiet grace and self possession of what we call a gentleman. There is nothing prononce or vulgar about him. Even when he is most rhapsodical his speech never loses its ease and gentleness of tone. He is bland, benevolent, sometimes quietly pathetic in manner. He poses him-self en victime, but with the air of one who does this regretfully and only from a disinterested sense of duty. I begin very soon to find that there is no need of troubling myself much to keep up the conversation; that my business is that of a listener; that the Prophet conceives himself to be address-ing some portion of the English or Ameri-can press through my humble medium. So I listen and my companion listens; and Brigham Young talks on; and I do declare and acknowledge that we are fast drifting into a hazy mental condition by virtue of which we begin to regard the Mormon Pres-ident as a victim of cruel persecution, a suf-fering martyr and an injured angel!
Time, surely, that the interview should come to a close. We tear ourselves away, and the Prophet dismisses us with a fervent and effusive blessing. "Good-bye—do well, mean well, pray always. Christ be with you, God be with you, God bless you." All this, and a great deal more to the same ef-fect, was uttered with no vulgar, maw-worm demonstrativeness of tone or gesture, no nasal twang, no uplifted hands; but quietly, earnestly, as if it came unaffectedly from the heart of the speaker. We took leave of Brigham Young, and came away a little puzzled as to whether we had been convers-ing with an imposter or a fanatic, a Peter the Hermit or a Tartuffe. One thing, however, is clear to me. I do not say that Brig-ham Young is a Tartuffe; but I know now how Tartuffe ought to be played so as to render the part more effective and more ap-parently natural and life-like than I have ever seen it on French or English stage.